


Sisterly Affections

by Abby_Ebon



Category: Supernatural, Van Helsing (2004)
Genre: Angels, Big Sisters, Demons, F/F, F/M, Fallen Angels, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-12
Updated: 2012-07-12
Packaged: 2017-11-09 20:08:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/457885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abby_Ebon/pseuds/Abby_Ebon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, your ‘parents’ are Samuel Colt, and ex-archangel Gabriel Van Helsing, the legendary immortal supernatural hunters. What WOULDN'T you see coming? How about finding out your LITTLE brothers are the Winchester Boys? Evelyn is less then amused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sisterly Affections

**Author's Note:**

> Well, what if Sam and Dean had a big sister? We've done to death that bit of "what if younger sibling", so much so that Eric Kripke took notice, and killed it. Er, him, him being "little brother" Adam Milligan (Jump The Shark). But, when you consider certain facts- it does become something of a ligament concern…. six years pass between the times that Mary had John as a boyfriend, and when they ended up married (because?) Mary has Dean. It's possible that Mary left John in-between that time, trying to find out about the Yellow-Eyed, and in-between "coming back" Mary might have had a child that John might not have known about. Or met, because, hey, John wasn't in "the loop" about the supernatural until after meeting Missouri, and well after Mary died; what if his then ten-year old little girl tried to call mommy, only to find out she's got a daddy – and, oh, two little brothers. No big. As to if this is John's child (as I've sort of implied) or someone else, well, that's a secret Mary took to the grave.
> 
> Timescale;
> 
> (1461) Dracula dies (killed by Gabriel), is reborn afterward.
> 
> (July 19, 1814) Samuel Colt born.
> 
> (1835) Colt traveled to England patented his revolver. Also in this year, the Colt (key to a Devil's Gate in Wyoming) and its thirteen bullets were crafted at this time (before/after England?). Perhaps at this time Samuel (then 19) encountered the Vatican, and Van Helsing.
> 
> (January 14, 1862) 47, Samuel Colt staged his own death, with help from Elizabeth Jarvis-Colt (1826-1905), his wife, so he could leave America and find answers to how to rid himself of the ghost killing their babies, so that then three year old Caldwell Hart Colt (b. 24-Nov-1858, d. 21-Jan-1894) would live.
> 
> (1863) Colt having learnt the truth of the supernatural, has allied himself with the Vatican and the "Knights of the Holy Order", and drank of the Vatican secret – the "Fountain of Youth" as most "monster hunters" in those days were urged to do. Makes one immortal, keeping Samuel 48, and slowly regenerating lost limbs and wounds; does not keep from pain.
> 
> (1888) partners Samuel Colt and Van Helsing, go to Romania (events of 2004 movie, Van Helsing, take place). Colt's son dies six years later. Vatican later this year turned on Helsing with Colt's gun – Vatican wiped out.
> 
> (December 5th, 1954) Mary Campbell-Winchester born to Deanna and Samuel Campbell, has a brother Robert, and uncle Jacob.
> 
> (30th April, 1973) Mary C. met John W./Dean W. 19;
> 
> (May 2, 1973) Mary makes 10-year deal with Yellow-Eyes for John.
> 
> (December 25, 1973) Evelyn born on Christmas night to Mary Campbell.
> 
> (January 24, 1979) Mary is 25 when Dean W. born.
> 
> (May 2, 1983) Mary is 29 when Sam. W. born.
> 
> (November 2, 1983) Mary died.
> 
> (1985, October) Haniel (archangel) falls after watching Earth for two-thousand years; nine months later (June 1986) "Anna Milton" born.
> 
> (September 29, 1990) Kate Milligan gives birth to Adam Milligan, son of John Winchester.
> 
> (2001) Sam parts from father, John, and brother, Dean.
> 
> (October 31, 2005) Sam and Dean go looking for John Winchester.
> 
> (November 2, 2005) Jessica is killed by Yellow Eyes.
> 
> Ages; Eve is 32, Dean is 26, Sam is 22, and Adam is 15.

_1978, Japan_

"Excuse me," Mary Campbell shifted her five year old daughter on her hip, "do you recognize these men?" two crumpled pages were unfolded and handed over. Sketched with as much historic accuracy as could be managed, if with more then _just_ _a bit_ of artistic leeway, pencil etched faces glared up at anyone who dared glimpse them. Mary hoped that part was "artistic", because even if it wasn't very smart be to _hunting_ legendary hunters, it was something Mary knew she had to do. Finding them was her one chance.

"Yes. Very difficult customers, gone before sunrise. Insisted not stay night, say ghost gone. No reason stay." Bleak black eyes narrowed, and winkled skin seemed to turn lips to frown, the old woman none-the-less handed back the penciled portraits without delay when Mary gestured for them. Her look more then implied that Mary was wasting her time, looking to find such lowlifes. Likely she had been insulted at the thought that customers only stayed at her inn for the ghost legacy, and well, if she didn't half fear that it was true, she wouldn't have cared so much to say so.

"Just this morning, then," Mary sighed to have missed them by such a small margin, but it couldn't be helped, "do you know where they went, after?" Mary felt her little one stir, and bounced her on her hip to settle, hoping she'd fall back to sleep. Mary worried that her little girl would get sick with so little sleep and constant traveling, but Mary could not see this opportunity pass. It was _vital_ that she find these men.

"Old road, say graveyard has flesh-eating ghouls. Why look?" The frown dipped into a sneer, and nostrils flared. Likely this woman still stifled and bristled over half-true 'insults', but it would do no good for her to think Mary thought the same. The inn, after all, wasn't much to look at. Mary wouldn't be the one to say so, even if that was the honest truth. Mary didn't know if she would need to stay here one night, backtracking cold trails, and Mary could not afford to alienate anyone that might in the future assist her.

"Her father…" Mary purposely jolted her daughter in a nudge, startling deer brown eyes to blinking open, if sleepily. It wasn't the truth, of course, but the old woman nodded in sympathy, and _that_ was what mattered. Mary was on her way shortly, the old woman having given into marital instinct and giving over rolls and milk, Mary was grateful for the kindness. It seemed most of this trip she had spent relying on the kindness of strangers.

"Mommy," her little girl, awake now, stirred to speak only while traveling alone, "can I see the pictures?" Mary was not unfamiliar with this plea, giving in with only a half smile. She had long ago gotten used to carrying a warm little body; it was no longer a weight of burden to her. Tiny fingers traced familiar patterns of grim faces that, if nature had a say, would have been long dead. They weren't.

"Is one of them…my daddy?" Halting words, her breathy voice was very small and unsure, seeking reassurance, or confirmation. Traveling was all her little girl knew, Mary knew she got "fidgety" and "fussy" if she lingered in a town for more then a handful of days. Her baby rarely spoke to strangers, or when Mary chanced to travel within a group for safety or quicker routes. Startled to stopping, Mary paused then the middle of a path the leaves choked. Her mind racing, Mary walked to a resting rock near by setting her little girl down to sit.

"No, baby…" Mary spared a glance to the pictures of the men her little girls hand clutched, two narrow eyed, and dangerous men glared up from aged yellowed paper. One was Samuel Colt, last drinker of the Fountain of Youth, inventor and maker of a Colt with thirteen bullets that could kill anything; and another was a rough sketch of the first successful (and most long-lived) "monster hunter", Gabriel Van Helsing, who was the last of the fallen Knights of the Holy Order, of the days the Vatican and Church had dealt with the "unholy". Neither were easy to be found, and it was harder still with a toddler.

"Evelyn," startled brown eyes swiftly looked up at her, little body tensed in listening, rare was it that Mary used her daughters full name, "listen to mommy, now, okay? Daddy is far away, in America, I went traveling – searching – without him knowing, I love him very much. Like I love you. He'll love you too. But mommy had to go looking for the people in the pictures, and when mommy said goodbye to daddy, she didn't know you were going to be born. Okay, baby?" Soft brown curls bounced in a quick nod. Mary found herself relaxing, heart easing from the tightness and uncertainty that had gripped it tight. Mary moved her fingers reassuringly though the feather-soft hair, brushing it away from eyes and ears.

"Why, _why_ are we looking for them, mommy?" Mary lent down and kissed her little girl on her forehead.

"Because a bad-thing hurt your grandpa and grandma, and nearly hurt daddy, and mommy is looking for these men so that she knows it won't happen again." A little hand reached for her own fingers, and Mary let Eve pull her into a warm embrace. Mary picked the little bundle up, letting a few tears fall into a tangle of brown curls.

"We'll find them, mommy, then the bad-thing will go away. Then we can go home to daddy." Folded into her little girls coat were the pictures of the only men that Mary thought might make the 'bad-thing' go away.

"I know, Eve, I know…" Puckered lips met her cheek in a swift little kiss, and Mary laughed along with Eve, when she giggled, and squirmed to get down – which Mary let her - so she could walk beside Mary. It would make a slow bit of travel, but Eve wouldn't walk forever, and Mary did not begrudge her daughter this small comfort.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"Van Helsing," Samuel Colt spoke slowly, as if speaking to a naughty child, "tell me you _did not_ use the last of the salt for your supper last night." Even after saying so, Samuel rummaged through a leather carry-bag, searching rather hurriedly for something else to use.

Van Helsing struggled against the stone tomb, even winded as he was, he grit his teeth, against a sarcastic answer. He would have wasted his breath, if it weren't for the ghoul – its human image flickered then, revealing its true nature - a being of stretched decaying flesh, and yellowed teeth. Its dim eyes narrowed in anticipation upon him, mouth gapping open to take a bite.

It lunged for his throat, but Van lifted his feet forcing the burden of his weight upon the unsuspecting creature. It hissed in surprise, and Van brought his legs up to kick at its exposed middle. With a screech of rage at being denied, it flew backwards, tumbling clumsily over a tombstone. Van was –as gravity demanded - dropped onto his rear, and hastily got up from his unseemly position. Seemingly unconcerned with his proceedings, Samuel glanced to Van, as if expecting an answer. Van gave him a reckless grin.

"I'll not eat my noodles _raw_ , Shem." Samuel Colt just barely managed to hide his smile in time, so it was just as well Van was distracted by the ghoul – a second one, female in a slip of red dress, as the first (a rag-dressed male Samuel suspected had been the groundskeeper) was crouched on the ground, dazed - hissing from the top a tombstone. Ghouls traveled in packs; and took on the guise of the last person they had consumed. It would stand to reason that there would be more then one.

Van gave a sigh, as if he had not wanted to give into the temptation Samuel knew had been plaguing him from the very start of this; when Van had heard the ghoul screaming for "help". They had, of course, for the start suspected some sort of lure. Samuel had been sure they would be prepared- they would have, _if_ Van had not used the last of the salt for his own delicate tastes. Pulling from the holsters hidden under his duster, metal gave a soft hiss of anticipation as Van was now armed with twin long-bladed scimitars. As they need salt to purify the undead, so they can be killed, Samuel half thinks Van is just having too much fun with this.

"It is how they are served in this country, Van. I was only being cultural, a bit of it would do you good." Samuel isn't half kidding, because Van is probably over two-thousand years old, and though Van looked human enough, he was a walking living-breathing angel. And that was, of course, half the problem.

Van knew he was _Gabriel_ (one of seven Archangels, the Left Hand of God, and Healer of Ills) and he was perfectly content with that knowledge (and _only_ that much), thank you very much. Samuel knew the "memory problem" was only half of it (why, after all, had Gabriel – of all angels – _Fallen_?); part of it was that Van did not want to know why. Van still preyed, still believed reverently in his Lord God, and still had as much of his angelic ability as a mortal shell could be afforded without damage. Samuel because of the Fountain of Youth, was an immortal being himself, if only (almost) two hundred years old; he had spent most of that time with Van, and knew when to push his self-proclaimed "monster hunting" partner.

"Here? Here they serve _fish raw_ , Shem, I ask you - is that _civilized_? I understand you want to cook culture, really, but trying it on my food – no thank you, my good sir." Van could only be reasoned with about his stubbornness and "lack of culture" when he was fighting to keep himself "alive". Ghoul wrestling wasn't much of a challenge, but it would have been less of one – if Van hadn't used the salt. Samuel more then half suspected he had done it on purpose. Well, if it helped Van get "it" out of his system so he would be reasonable once more – so much the better.

It was then that Samuel glanced to see how Van was dealing – the ghouls had at one point gotten _both_ scimitars away (had Van let them do that?) – they'd suffered for it. Blood flowed from a multiple amount of cuts and severed limbs, even a half severed head wouldn't slow the undead. Blood loss wasn't _much_ of a deterrent. Still, it probably stung something fierce.

Samuel looked back to the contents of the bag (reusable-retracting silver stakes, sawed-off shotguns, crucifix, holy water flasks - a bulky crossbow Van kept for _sentimental_ reasons – blow gun with useless _tranquilizer_ darts) he swore to himself then that he'd get some new stuff, next they could. It was then, while Samuel was thinking furiously, and _distracted_ – that the bag was kicked to a tomb wall. Samuel looked up then, not wasting time in scrambling away, half crouched along the ground. There was now a _third_ ghoul, a little girl with a red ribbon in her black hair. She grinned, yellow teeth flickering at him greedily.

"Bit busy, Van, but – if I were to, say, _disagree_ , in fact, that a nation of art and sophistication – such as this, can not possibly _uncivilized,_ or shell we say, savage, well, if you were implying something to that – I might just _leave you here_ to see you be cannibalized." Samuel was slowly backing up, aware of his surroundings even as he continued rather hastily checking the pockets and holsters upon his suit and overcoat for weapons that would be at all effective – or, really, plainly _useable_. Pissing off a ghoul was something one lived to regret, even the immortal. Even if Van got some sort of thrill off it, Samuel _did not_. Immortal did not mean "immune to pain"; neither did it mean his limbs wouldn't take years to be re-grown from stumps.

It didn't half surprise him when his back met Van's own. Back to back, and trapped. It seemed something that he was far too familiar with these days. Slowly they stalked forward, hissing and chattering at them mockingly, there was something painfully primitive and ancient in there movements.

"Ah, well, in that case, my dear Shem, I take it back, and will take it upon my poor uncultured self to write a formal letter of apology, if you think it necessary." Van couldn't resist the bribe, and Samuel did not begrudge it of him. Even as they faced certain dismemberment, and assuredly Samuel would ruin his suit, and Van would need to get himself another leather duster. It wasn't the worst thing. He was sure, somehow – they'd get out of this, even if it was by Van spitting salt. At the ridiculous notion, Samuel chuckled.

"Indeed?" Samuel teased aloud, and could feel Van vibrating with tension – neither of them, after all, would go down without a fight. Jaws were gapping open on all three ghouls, sharp reptilian teeth, and then it raised its arms, bent at its sides – and prepared to leap.

"Oh, yes." Van practically purred the words, and Samuel felt an odd thrill go through him. There was something to these situations; after all, maybe Van was onto something, here.

It was then that three soft _thwacks_ tore wedged-bladed cross-bolts into ghoul necks, severing heads in precise accuracy. Van lifted his head to the hill that overlooked the cemetery grounds, tipping back with one finger his wide-brimmed hat, the path there was the only way in, or out. It was the only logical place such shots could be made.

A woman with a baby on her hip was lowering her crossbow, which she clearly knew how to use. Samuel felt himself flush, quickly thinking, and changing his mind about Van's preoccupation with putting them in _these_ sorts of situations - that _this_ was the worst thing.

They were being recued… from _ghouls_.

"Thank you, ma'am," for all that Van was facing the woman, he was looking keenly to the little girl, brow furrowed, "that was nicely done."

Samuel only knew that he was never going to let Van forget _this_ one ( _rescued_ from _ghouls_!); all because Van wanted _salt_ with his _noodles_. Preoccupation with little girls aside, Van seemed to have dismissed that they, the two ' _original monster hunters_ ', the _best_ , had been about to be eaten- as in flesh consumed, by the _undead_. Samuel liked to think he had some pride, amnesic Archangels aside. If he were to "go out" he'd rather demons, or gods, or something – anything – but flesh-eating undead.

"Pleased to have you say as much, Mr. Helsing, you might call me a follower of your… _work_. My name is Mary Campbell, and this is my daughter – Evelyn, its no accident we meet, I would have caught up sooner or later – been tracking you since late '73." That, both Van and Samuel knew, took effort. They looked between each other, in a vague sort of way; they both had realized that there were _others_ out there, other monster hunters.

Most often they had been victims, first, when Van and Samuel hadn't gotten there in time, or hadn't known until later. Seeing it as a sort of personal fault of their own, both of them 'worked' alone, and made it a point to avoid those that attempted to follow in their footsteps. They couldn't outright stop other 'hunters', but not encouraging them to take risks with their very mortal lives had seemed to get the point across – for the most part. It was a mess, though, without the Vatican to shelter and inform those others, giving something of an organization – couldn't be helped though. Samuel would never be one to wish the fallen Vatican revived.

"Whatever for…?" Wary now, Samuel frowned at her. There was nothing really _threatening_ about the slender young woman, blond and blue-eyed, who in front of them. Still, she had killed three ghouls without missing, and she wasn't the least bit intimated for knowing who they were.

"I need your help, there is something stirring in the 'States; something bad, ever seen a Yellow-Eyed demon?" Mary quizzed them, fearless. Van tapped a gloved finger to his scruffy jaw, and narrowed his eyes on Mary, looking her up and down - with interest now. Samuel frowned to Van, wondering what had changed to put him in such a curious mood. He knew he would know soon enough, Van would tell him in his own words. He didn't half expect Van to answer Mary – yet – he did.

"Matter of fact, I have…question is, how'd you survive Azazel?" And _that_ told Samuel more then what Van likely knew he was giving away. Demons were rare and far between, you had to go looking for them. Or they found you with _intentions_ you often did not want to know the heart of. There were enough demons out there that knew what Van had been, and wanted a legacy of killing a fallen Archangel while he was bound to mortal form; most of those learned quickly that _neither_ of them took kindly to such notions. Still, Van often did not bother to say the names of demons. When he did, well, it meant that Van remembered them – as Gabriel. _That_ was never good.

"My mother, father, and boyfriend _didn't_ – he wanted a deal, May 2, '83, I'm to stand aside and let him take whatever he wants." Mary swallowed, tilting her chin up boldly and did not flinch from Van's gaze.

"Foolish." Samuel hissed the word, unable to hold his tongue. Samuel sneered, he had long known of "hunters" some no better then the things they hunted, using any means to kill the monsters, and often not noticing when they became what they hunted. God help Mary if she was that sort. Samuel had no pity for _that_ kind. They always faced the same end – Van – as they had nothing human left, and there was nothing left to be done then to take them down, out of pity – and only Van would take it upon himself to do such dirty work. Van would not even let Samuel accompany him then, on "mercy kills", and he always came back the same - warn down and haggard. He had nightmares. It made Samuel _furious_ , every time.

"Shem…" Samuel flinched from Van's plea, soft and half-sob. Van should never sound like that. Samuel never forgot that for all Van's dry-irony sense of humor, there was more to him then a weapon, then the Left Hand of the Lord. He was knowledgeable, and enduringly patient, and Samuel's best friend.

Samuel had always been protective of Van, ever since at nineteen years old, a foreign American on English soil. Vatican had gotten Samuel to craft them a gun that could kill _anything_ , Samuel had only been thinking of evil. Then _they'd_ aimed it, his Colt, at Van. Samuel would never forgive them that. Never – because Van had cried, even as he killed to defend himself – and get Samuel out, after, Samuel had dragged Van to North America. That had been the start of it.

"It was, Samuel Colt, the _only way_ to get _that demon_ to bring back my Evelyn's dad. You understand?" Mary glared up at him, and very slowly, Samuel nodded his understanding. He may not _like_ it, but if things had gone differently and Van had died, killed in cold blood by the Vatican, cursed-and-damned Knights of the Holy Order, he had served faithfully – Samuel would have made a deal to get him back – even at the cost of his Colt; it would have been worth any faction of his soul.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

" _Who_ is Azazel, exactly…in the demon league of things?" Mary asks keeping her voice low and soft, it isn't because she fears attracting evil with the name of a demon, rather it's was for looking to Evelyn –who slept easily – curled up on top of Van Helsing's leather duster. Van watched this with a bemused ease, and Samuel feared Van was already far too attached to the little girl to let "this one" go. Even if it would probably be safer for Van; demons had a worrisome _kink_ for going after Van.

"Azazel, son of Lucifer. Powerful, and whatever he is involved with – you, the deal, your boyfriend returning to life. Likely, somehow, it all leads to breaking the sixty-six seals that bind Lucifer." Van answered almost absent-mindedly unconcerned with that revelation. Mary's lips twisted into a frown, as she looked then to Van.

"If there are only sixty-six seals, it shouldn't be too hard to protect them; am I right?" Samuel had _that_ fleeting thought; it didn't seem that much of a challenge, when compared to what they'd faced off against before. Van was slowly shaking his head, and Samuel had the sickened feeling that there was, of course, more to it then what Van was _saying_ ; wasn't there always.

"Except for the _first_ , and the _last_ – there are six-hundred seals to chose from among sixty-six. It would only be a matter of time. We don't have that if your right about this all coming down on our heads five years from now." Mary had tensed, pale and her hands trembling, she rubbed them together, as if cold. It made her obvious unease less, and if that gave her some comfort, neither of them would begrudge it of her. Mary knew dealing with demons was dangerous – she just hadn't, until now, seen the full scope of it.

"How could you know _that_?" Mary demanded, voice cracking with her anxiety. Samuel huffed, rolling his eyes as Van smirked almost smugly. He tapped a finger to the side his head, his self-mocking.

"Some things, you just don't forget." Van looked aside, frowning into the fire they had built up within the abandoned cottage that had served the groundskeeper. Mary opened her mouth – likely to ask something – but Samuel beat her to speaking.

"Don't encourage him." It was lightly –but firmly - said, as Samuel looked to Van, worried. It was enough for Mary to nod with understanding, and Samuel winked at her, grateful to her. With the easy familiarity between Samuel and Van, it was easy to forget they were older then the looked. Legends rarely lived up to what they were supposed to be, Samuel knew that, but sometimes the man overshadowed the legend; bigger then the murmurs and whispers said. Van was one of those, and it was dangerous for Samuel to know Van was what he was – it'd be worse if Mary knew it was an _Archangel_ sitting at the fire.

"All of this we _know_ , nothing of this we can _do something about_ , yet. I'd understand, Mary, if after delivering this bit of news, you wanted to go home - and settle with that boyfriend, raise your little girl." There was longing in Van, to have a family – but Van was not a man, he could probably reproduce – but it was against the Lord to do so. So Van would not.

Samuel sometimes cursed Van for being so unselfish, even Samuel had had his chance at normal – a family, a successful business, a son. He'd had it, and had to give it up, leave, when a ghost that was after him, was killing his infant children. It hurt, but worse was in knowing Van would never have that.

"It's what I intended to do. You two are the best of the best, if you fail, well, none of us really stood a chance in the first place, is my guess." Mary clenched her hands together, hating to say it like that. It sounded like she was giving up the fight, handing it over - her burden, her mistake - to them. Yet what choice did she have? She had grown up a hunter's daughter, and did not want that life for her little girl. Didn't Mary have a right to that chance?

"It's just as well you go back to America, we need someone to be our eyes over there." Samuel stated, and Mary nodded with clenched teeth, looking to her daughter. No hunter liked to give up the hunt, especially not when it was personal. It was a mark to Mary that she hadn't done so until she _knew_ , and met in person, Van and Samuel. Now that they were "taking care of it", she didn't need to.

"I suggest we turn in, get a fresh start come morning." Van said unexpectedly, standing abruptly and striding out of the cabin. Samuel looked after him, but did not follow – not yet - when he looked to Mary, he found her looking curiously back. Samuel half-shrugged, a good many things could be "wrong" and Van wouldn't show it, this was personal for the both of them. Mary didn't need to know. A while later, Samuel left Mary curled with her daughter in front of the low-smoldering still-warm fire.

Samuel found Van where he thought he would, in a clearing not far from the cabin – the sky visible from where he laid out on the grass. For a long while, Samuel stood silently beside him.

"It's stupid, Shem." Van warned from where he lay, Samuel shrugged, carefully not yet looking down at his friend. Van sat up, loose curling hair falling about his shoulders. He tucked his knees in, tilting his chin – knowing Samuel had something to say, and showing that he would listen.

"Which part, Van – was it making that invitation-revival deal with a demon to save the life of her beloved? Carrying her daughter around most of the globe? People do stupid things, Van – its part of being human." Samuel wasn't lecturing Van; he was reminding him of the facts. Samuel did "stupid" human things, when Van least expected it – had thought him "cured" of it. As a whole, Van was often disgusted with humanity and its "stupid things"; still, Van loved, and fought for them. He couldn't _not_.

"All of it, none of it, a child – Shem, _a child_ …" Samuel wasn't entirely surprised to see the tear-trails falling, or by the sob-wrenched voice that spoke. It was cruel, Mary had what Van had always wanted most, a child, a chance at a normal – mortal – life, and yet she flung the chance away, endangering her babe, all for _this_.

All to let them know, early – it was a bold, brave thing, and Van had known it all the moment he laid eyes on that girl child. Samuel suspected that sometimes Van could read a person's story and soul from a glimpse in their unguarded eyes, and other times he _knew_ it. This was one of those times. Van had looked into Eve, and Eve had seen things Van would have given anything to have shielded her from. Mary didn't know – didn't realize it. Might never know the terrible cost came with giving them this warning.

"I know it, Van." Samuel stood beside Van, silent like stone, feeling as if he were the only thing keeping Van from fleeing into the darkness, mad.

A scream lifted the small hairs on Samuel's arms and neck. _Mary_. Then they were running, frantic, back to the cabin – hoping for a miracle. They got a curse. Mary was pinned, curing and begging and struggling with a invisible force that held her, without pity or mercy, unbending - against the far wall, flung to the far side of the fireplace; with lovely black hair and pale skin and red lips, a white-eyed demon possessed girl-child stood –stance almost mockingly protective – over the sleeping child snuggled in Van's coat. _Eve_.

"Get away from my baby, you monster. I'll kill you, dead, you hear me? No Hell is good enough for you, get away from her! Please, please, don't hurt her, don't hurt my little girl!" A pleased smile lifted the girl-demons lips, seeing Samuel and Van rush recklessly into the room. Samuel looked to Van, who had – upon seeing the demon – stopped dead in his tracks, recognition, and – worse – fear, horror, deepened and lined – _aged_ – the smooth skin of his features.

"Do not take a step closer, Gabriel." Van _took a step back_ , obeying – hands raised in a gesture of peace – surrender. Samuel wanted to scream at him, it felt _wrong_ for Van to attempt to appease a demon. Yet, he would not endanger a child when a demon stood beside it, using it for a flesh and blood seal.

"What are you doing, Lilith?" Van seemed to choke the words out, at them – Samuel stood frozen in front of Van; it looked, Samuel realized offhandedly as if _Samuel_ was protecting Van. Maybe he was, if only in standing beside Van.

"Please, please, please, no…." Mary wailed the words out, keening. Lilith looked to her, cold and measuring.

"Silence…" Mary words caught in her throat, and she nodded, slowly, her eyes bulging wide with fear – Lilith's hand had circled around Eve's neck. All it would take was a twist – or clench of her hand, and the life would bleed out of the little girl before Gabriel could lay hands on Lilith. Samuel had the horrible moment to think – to realize – Lilith might be cruel enough to _do it_ , to watch a mother suffer the death of her only daughter; or watch an Archangel fail a child. The result would be the same, pain – anguish – emotions any demon would take pleasure in. Yet only Lilith could feed off such things.

"Azazel, the fool, let you get away from him. He underestimates mortals, a failing. Well, then, it falls to me to keep you out of the way of our plans to raise Lucifer. How shell I do it?" Lilith tapped the side of her bottom lip, as if thinking. She balanced on her toes and heel, the movement child-mocking and strangely playful. Samuel looked aside at such antics, so she would not see the sneer of disgust that crossed his features. There was no reason to goad her into a reaction that would doubtlessly be regretted.

" _Hmmm_. Killing her would bring about the vengeance of Gabriel, and while I'd not pass up the chance to _play_ , alas, work must be first… while the breaking this woman would be, amusing –Azazel being fond of your "lively" spirit, Mary, I would not earn his wrath for the likes of you, mortal. Much as it would amuse me, I'll not steal her – no child would serve me well, as a playmate in Hell." Purring the words, the demon knelt beside Eve, and Mary cried out, words running together unrecognizably (please-don't-not-my-baby-don't-kill-her-kill-me-kill-me!) – a pale little hand brushed through soft chocolate brown hair. It was a tender gesture, kindly.

"So, it would serve to do something that would keep you...otherwise _occupied_ , to distract…to keep mother from daughter, as I am cruel. A curse, then, Lilith's kiss upon her, so all manner of evils in the dark will know her to be marked, mine – and evil shall want her, attract her, and wish me ill with the killing of her, never knowing they one-in-all fall into the trap of my design." Little fingers tangled in brown hair, and Eve whimpered – waking with the pain.

"Mommy…?" Wide eyed, Eve looked up into demon white-eyes, and Lilith smiled, expressing mock-kind. Lilith shook her head, slowly, from side to side, as if sympathizing that Eve was alone, sitting beside a demon – then white-eyes glimmered - silvered, no longer a milky white, Lilith forced her closer, yanking at her hair – then Lilith was kissing Eve, tongue thrusting into her mouth, teeth mashing against her lips and making her bleed. It only took a breath.

With the pervasive stink of sulfur, Lilith was gone, and Eve whimpered as her fingers carefully touched bleeding silver lips. In that moment Mary dropped heavily to the floor, breathless, her cheeks streaked with tears – she looked at her daughter as if she did not know her. Samuel watched as Van was the only one willing to approach, kneeling beside her, Eve flung herself at his midsection, hot tears fell from her eyes.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"What, exactly…what has Lilith done? I don't understand, please, tell me what's happened." Mary asked shakily, voice pleading even as she knew it was hopeless - it was approaching early morning, and she was still dressed. None of them had slept, they hadn't dared. Lilith's curse still rung in their ears, and the silver had not faded from Eve's lips. Van had told them it would never fade; as long as Lilith lived, Eve would bare the mark of her kiss. Mary clenched her fingers together, trying to stop the trembling in them. Her eyes were still on Eve, who'd been soothed into a fitful sleep. Samuel had watched her carefully; there was _something_ that kept Mary from reaching for her daughter.

Some fear, that having failed Eve once, she would again. She was content to watch from afar as Eve was held, soothed, and lulled into security. Perhaps, it was that Samuel was not giving Mary enough credit – maybe she only didn't want to wake Eve from her uneasy slumber, even if the comfort given to her daughter had been offered by a stranger.

"It's a death curse, whatever else it is. Lilith _will know_ , everything Eve does, smells, tastes, hears, touches, sees, even to the point of _knowing_ where Eve is. Demons, originally, weren't bound to Hell; they walked on Earth freely enough. Lilith is one of the oldest and most powerful demons of her sort. She remembers those days." Van met her eyes squarely, it was necessary that Mary understand, that she didn't dismiss this for what it was, and what it meant. What it had changed. Van waited for Mary to nod, lips sealed against questions that flung themselves like a hive of wakened bees within her mind. She wanted to lash out – to blame – but she dared not, because if anyone who walked this Earth could, and might, help her, it was the two men who sat at the fireside with her.

"Demons weren't always called _demons_ , did you know that? No, in those days, they were known by a different word, _fae_ – fairy. It's thought that fae were like-gods, first, and then they were weakened and lost their hold with the teachings of the Church. It's a close enough truth. Before, the fae – the demons – they _marked_ their favorite humans, or just the ones they wanted to torment the families of; a manifestation of symbols on the skin, it's where the idea of tattoos came from, such marks can not be removed – but they can be changed; lessened. Though not easily; and never without a price." It chilled Samuel to hear Van speak so easily of things that had happened many thousands of years ago. Mary would only think this to be Van's guesses and maybe history he had learned though reliable (as much as such things could be) sources – she would never think that Van had _lived it_.

"Lilith tried it, once - _marking_ , and found her kiss; on a grown man, it's just too much, she's too powerful, giving too much life, too much pleasure, and the result is always the same - killing him dead. Yet, with a child, who's already filled with the volatile potential of life-and-death, sometimes it works." There was something Van wasn't saying, there was a reason for it, Samuel was sure - could sense that – so he said nothing, only grunting in agreement (as if he knew what Van was talking about for fact) when Mary glanced at him to judge his reaction. Samuel wouldn't give them away so easily. Not with Van counting on him like this. Not when he was hearing, in a round-about way, bits of a past Van rarely shared.

There was a lot Van _knew_ that could be excused by his history with the Vatican, if he didn't age – hunters only thought Van had drunk of the Fountain of Youth, as Samuel had. They rarely guessed he wasn't human; Van was just that good at pretending to be less then what he was. He'd had a long time to get it right.

"You mean… she might not die?" For the first time, hope had slithered into Mary's voice, lit her eyes. Van caught it, and keeping their eyes locked, slowly shook his head – the ache of pain in his eyes was not something faked. It startled Samuel, who wanted to touch Van on the shoulder – wanted, badly, to – in some small way, reassure him. Remind him that he wasn't alone; wouldn't be alone, so long as Samuel breathed and walked.

"She will, Mary, I'm sorry - it's only a question of when. The longer she lives, the worse off Eve will be for it; Lilith just put a _demon mark_ on her, Mary. In short, it means _everything_ in the dark will waken and stir and reach out with intent, to either help, or kill out of spite. There are a lot of evil things _out there_ that hate demons, would remember the mark as a sign of favor, and will react to it. Worse would be the things that want to protect her." Van held Eve, a demon marked child, in his arms with an ease that Samuel knew was not faked. Mary did not know what Van was – but Samuel did. It was in Van's nature to protect the innocent, his very instincts demanded he stand in-between human ruin and what stirred in the dark - yet he held a child that could unravel it all, and did not flinch from her, did not even suggest killing her.

"I'm not enough to protect her, you mean, I can't hide her, or, or save her." Mary did not look to her daughter, as she spoke to the ground – having pulled her gaze from Van.

"No, Mary, you can't. You are very good at what you do – tracking us is a credit to you. Imagine if the things you've seen and done have been little ripples in a lake, it makes a difference, never doubt that. Yet there are rivers, and dams, and oceans of things out there that will sit up and _take notice_ of Eve – they'll gravitate to her, and she'll never get a rest, she'll always have to be watching out for _something_ that might be coming at her – no way to know, until its too late, if what's stirring is only like a lapping tidal wave, or tsunami. Or if that bit of cloud over the horizon is a seasonal summer rain, or a sea storm." Samuel did not imagine that Van's words gave Mary much comfort – but she did not know what Van was. Samuel did.

"What will I –you… _we_ do?" Mary had to have realized that, however much she was loath to admit it, she could not take care of her daughter. It was beyond her to face the darkness – she was only one hunter, only a mother.

"What can be done? We must protect her, of course, as killing her would serve no purpose, and give Lilith sway. Try to keep her from the darkness, it will be hungry for her, searching – it won't give up, every trick in the book will be used. She'll have to know what's out there, she can not be ignorant." Van did not spare Mary from the truth, and Samuel could not blame him. Eve lay in his lap, snuggled to his heart, as if the beat of it kept her sane. Maybe it did, it was at least a comfort- maybe to the both of them.

"I…I don't know if I can do this." Mary whispered, brokenly. She trembled at shadows. Something in her – that boldness that had sent her searching for them – had been lost. They did not have time to mourn it. Lilith had made things clear – they had five years until a plan was set in motion, and it would then be like trying to stop an avalanche. They had an early start – it could not be wasted.

"Then leave. We'd not miss you. We still have to know what is going on in America, and I have to tie up loose trails here. This changes little. We would still have to – somehow – stop Azazel and Lilith, now, at least – we know they are working together. It's something." Though it was not a _good_ something, but at least they knew now – rather then finding out last-minute. That could have been a disaster. It was reckless of the demons, but they were rushed – and maybe Lilith had thought the knowing would make them hesitate. It certainly had stopped Van in his tracks.

"I…I _couldn't_ –won't ….can't…what about Eve?" Mary couldn't seem to get the words out right. But it didn't matter, Van looked sharply at her, the first time he had taken his eyes off Eve since Lilith had departed.

"You can, you _must go to America_. We'll take care of her. She'll be safe with us." There was something pervasive in Van's words. Mary looked away, to Eve, her shoulders and back bowed with this burden. Van was telling, in his own way, for Mary that it was _okay_ to run away – to leave Eve in their care. There was something persuasive in hit, Eve would be safer with an Archangel and an immortal man then with her own mother; that was fact. Still - it was the certainly in this knowledge that would hurt Mary; maybe tear something of her heart. Samuel realized then that Van was being selfish – getting what he wanted, if in a round-about way. In a way that Van would never have intended, or used. Still, it didn't change facts. Van would have his daughter, would have Eve.

"You're …sure?" Mary licked her lips, eyes begging to be told what do to. No mortal mother should bear the burden of a child that would talk to monsters – the dark would answer, and do her bidding. Still, it was wrong to ask Mary to give Eve up. She would, because an Archangel told her to – even if she didn't know what Van was, her soul would – and would obey. Samuel said nothing, he dared not. It was still _Mary's choice_ in the end – despite angelic influence and unsaid things - and Samuel wanted most of all for Van to _be happy_.

"Yes." Van said it curtly, and Mary nodded, shaky and still in a half-shock.

"A-alright." Wide-eyed, Mary had reached for Eve – Van took her hand, stopping her.

"It would be best if you did not say goodbye." Mary blinked back tears, and looked away – to her things. She slowly stood, and went to them, picking up her hikers backpack but leaving behind a duffle bag of little things – Eve's things. Mary looked down at it, not bothering to blink back her tears. She turned away from the little duffle, facing the door – the path back to a village.

"I understand." Mary spoke softly, and did not look back as she shut the door behind her. A thick silence lay over them, between them, for a long time. Finally, Van spoke – breaking it so Samuel would not have to.

"I felt it, Shem, felt when she chose to leave her daughter. Likes of her don't deserve Eve." There was defensiveness in Van's words, as if he expected Samuel to argue with him. To say that what Van had _suggested_ was wrong. If that was true, it was also true that Mary hadn't fought him.

"That isn't fair, Van." Samuel murmured, for _something_ had to be said in Mary's defense. He rested his hand on Van's shoulder, so Van would not think he begrudged Van this. Van gave him a half-smile of thanks, still holding the little girl protectively to him.

"No, it isn't, but it never has been – has it, Shem?" Van understood what Samuel was saying, that, yes – he was saying that Mary was human, and made mistakes – but this wasn't one of them. Van knew that although he had always wanted normal – family – had preyed for it, he wouldn't have it. This was their normal, and Van had gotten his prayer answered – Eve was his – theirs. It suited them.

"No, Van, but Evy is under our care now – we'll keep her safe, we will not fail her." It was a promise Samuel rarely made to anyone – having learnt his lesson the hard way with too many failures, having seen too many die – believing with their last breath that they would be saved.

Yet, he did so now - reckless, knowing he would _make_ it true, even to the last bit of his blood - looking down at the curly haired little girl asleep, an innocent despite the curse that had been laid on her. They would protect her, raise her as their own. Whatever else, they stood a better chance of surviving – a hope.

It was more then most would have had.

**Author's Note:**

> (In The Next Chapter);
> 
> "This is Evelyn Winchester. Bobby Singer, you won't know me, but you're my best chance at reaching my father - John Winchester, do me a favor and get this message to him, if you can. I can't get in contact with him. God, I hope it's only that the numbers changed, let me know if something has happened to him. I'll leave my information at the end of this message. Tell him that even overseas, the contacts mom and her family had are wiped, Yellow-Eyes did a damn good job of it. Family over here doesn't know anything; everyone who might have is dead. Hope it's better at your end. Kids over here all dropped like flies, most didn't even reach twenty. Tell him…tell him I won't lose the last family I have left, he won't be doing this alone - this is personal. I'll be flying in before the week is out, I won't be alone – the usual meeting place."


End file.
